Englishmen Don't Take Kindly To Being Kidnapped
by SpeakingThroughWrittenWords
Summary: When France slips up, England leaves him. But France will not let him go so easily! Even if America and Canada are not really helping, Scotland and Ireland intimidate Prussia, and Wales and Spain seem useless...
1. This Is Being Kidnapped

_Based on Titus' episode 'Deprogramming Erin'. Because it works.

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**This Is The Kidnapping He Isn't Taking Kindly To**

"England! England!" France threw rocks up at the window, hoping beyond reason that Scotland would not hear it. "Happy Valentines Day!"

"Fuck off!"

Ah, that was the voice of his angel.

"England! We need to talk! Get out here!" France pleaded. He was considerably brightened when the front door opened. He was considerably less brightened when he saw it was Ireland and Scotland.

"I want 'is leg!"

"'ave it, Ai git the girly scalp!"

As they were armed with all sorts of sharp instruments France decided they were not kidding.

For those joining the tale, one might ask what had happened? France and England fight all the time, it was nothing new. They certainly dated on and off (more off than on) and their breaking up should have been expected and no big deal. And since it was England who broke it off this time one could assume that France cheated on him. It was true enough.

The key word being enough and not actually meaning 'it was true'.

"Whu... y' t'lkin'... 'bout?" America asked through his hamburger. France glared at him, plucking the food out of the other Nation's hands and tossing it over his shoulder. "Hey!"

"_Prêtes attention_!" France pleaded, hand on either side of America's head to make him look at him. "I need England back! What I did was so harmless, it was nothing! He won't let me explain myself! You have to get him to talk to me!"

America was thoughtful, which was a surprising sight to anyone else in its own right. "And how am I supposed to get England to want to listen to you?"

Somehow America found himself knocking on the door of the house containing the British Isles. Scotland answered it and America smiled brightly. "Can I talk to England for a sec?"

Scotland stared at him before turning inward. "Oi! England! It's America!"

England certainly took his sweet time in showing up to answer the door. "America? What are you doing here?"

"Well," America slung his arm around England's shoulders, walking him further from the doorway. "I was supposed to lure you outside... So France can sneak up behind you with a sack and kidnap you."

England stared at him incredulously. "What? Don't be an idiot! Ha! You're so stupid!" The both of them laughed until England felt someone's eyes on his back. Which is when he turned. France gave him a smile right before dropping the potato sack right over his head. "Augh! Let me go!"

"Help me!" France hissed at America. America, who thought this was completely hilarious, grabbed the end with England's legs as the both of them ran away from the house with the screaming Englishman.

Which led them to France's house.

"Set him on the couch, would you?" France managed to grunt. England had not given up in his struggle all of the way home and Belgium had given them both a very strange look.

"I'll kill you!" England was still shrieking. America dropped England on the couch, which ended with a high pitched squeak escaping England.

"Careful America!" France pulled him away from the bag. America covered France's mouth with his hand.

"Shh... Dat's not my real name," America winked. "_Russia_. Being Communist is ze best, _da?_"

France stared at him. Then he decided to stare at the sack, which was about to wiggle off the couch. "_Mon cher!_"

"Let. Me. Go!" England hollered as France held the top of the bag tight.

"Only if you agree to stop this _lutte contre_ me and listen."

"Trying to pretend you're Russia is difficult if you keep talking in French," Alfred whispered loudly.

England stopped struggling. "You'll let me go?"

"I'll let you out of the bag," France corrected, trying to gesture toward America to lock the door. America just stared back at him. "Lock the door!"

"What?" England demanded, beginning to struggle once more.

"Are you completely thick?" France hissed at America.

"Says the guy who said 'lock the door' in front of the person you said you'd let go," America rolled his eyes as he went to the front door. France opened the bag slightly to peer inside.

"_Je t'aime!_"

"I'm going to hit you so hard you won't exist in the fifteenth century!" France closed the sack once more. "No! Release me!"

"My bruder's here to help, _si?_" America mashed together his accents and language. France winced.

France looked over to see Canada with a nervous smile. "What is going... oh my God, eh!" Smile was gone. England starting thrashing around in the sack once more. "Who's in there?"

"CANADA HELP ME," England screamed once more, sliding off the couch. America reached over the couch, grabbing it and yanking it back up.

"You put England in a sack?" Canada stared at America. America pointed at France and Canada shifted his gaze.

"I brought him to a place where he would listen to me!" France corrected. Canada moved over to the couch and reached for the top of the bag. "_Mes fils_, I wouldn't–"

"Ow!" Canada retreated from the sack. "He bit me!"

"Canada?" England asked, his movements slowing.

"Bit the wrong man, man," America whistled.

"England, _s'il te plaît_," France pleaded, one hand on either side of burlap sack covered shoulder. "Just listen, that's all I ask."

"You put him in a sack!" Canada said, nursing wounded fingers.

"He bit you!" America shoved Canada's shoulder.

England stopped struggling once more. "I'm listening."

France stayed quiet for a moment before untying the top of the bag to expose England's head. "Are you certain?"

England gave a death glare to the three in the vicinity. Of course, being in a sack made it less threatening to America (who was standing behind him and therefore could not see it anyway), but Canada and France both flinched. "I have nothing else to do. So speak up."

"Good." France got to his knees in front of England. "It was a mistake! I was simply complimenting her. It would have been an insult not to mention how pretty she was!"

"Would it have been an insult not to offer your number?" England snapped, almost sulking back into the bag.

"Oh ho! Burn!" America clicked his tongue against his teeth. France flipped him off.

"A moment of weakness of which nothing else would come of!" France insisted, charming grin in place. England was little affected by that grin. It had been overused, by his opinion. "You know me better than that!"

"I do know you better, that's the point."

"I do stupid things, I know," France agreed. England's eyes narrowed further.

"I've noticed. I'm in a bloody potato sack." England's teeth clicked together as he considered raising his arms up and getting out himself. Then again, France and America had rustled him into this in the first place and he was not certain whether Canada would help him after he had bitten him. Plus he was certain they had tied it with a lot of twine. "But you know what? I would probably listen more sympathetically if I was _**NOT IN A SACK!**_"

"Could you forgive me?" France pleaded, giving his saddest look up at England. England considered him for a moment.

"I... suppose I _could_ forgive you for putting me in a sack." _It's not the worst thing you've ever done_ were the unspoken words that the four of the added to the end of the sentence. Thankfully no one said it.

"_Oubleir et pardonner_," France smiled, slowly bringing his hands to the top of the bag. England did not move to bite him. France hugged him. "See? I said if you just listened we could work this out!"

"Actually, if I stayed in my house I wouldn't have to listen," England argued as France started working on the twine. "Because then there wouldn't be a sack entrapping me. Now that we have that settled... America, you're driving me home."

France froze.

"Which house?" America smirked.

"But _mon amour_... you _are_ home," France protested. England shook his head.

"Correction: this is your house. Mine is a bit further up north. You know, in my country?"

"With your _brothers_," France reminded him. England nodded. France's hands dropped to his sides. "But you hate your brothers."

"They're my family," England insisted. "They not only tolerate me, they love me." This statement left the other three Nations in complete shock. This was followed by England shouting as France, America, and Canada ran around the house to lock the windows and doors. "Oh, come on!"

"Did you get the bedroom window, eh?"

"Both of them!" America called back. England groaned.

"France! Honestly, let me go! If you really love me and are sorry like you say you are, you would release me!"

"'_If I really loved you_...'" France repeated as he returned back to England's side, sitting down next to him. "England, I have never kidnapped anyone with a sack just to have them hear me out before!"

"Oh boy, do _I_ feel special." England rolled his eyes.

"Dude, you're going about this the wrong way," America said as he came back into the room, Canada behind him. "England's way too tense to be anything less than disagreeable."

"It is a tense situation," France spoke the obvious, wondering why on Earth he had asked America for help instead of someone else. "What are you suggesting?"

"France, don't you _dare_ let him suggest anything," England warned him as America advanced on the both of them. America let out a hum, staring down at England.

"You tickle 'em!" America crowed, bending over and attacking England. England tried to shout at him again, but the sound was closer to a shriek of hilarity than anything. At least up until the point when France pushed him away.

"What are you doing, eh?" Canada asked, pulling America back. America turned around and started tickling him instead. "Ah! Stop it! _America!_" He slapped at him and America slapped back.

France ignored their little slap fest to return his attentions to England. "Are you all right?"

"I would be all right if I could defend myself!" England responded hotly. France leaned slightly in and England snapped his teeth at him. "I can still bite, you twat!"

"Let me try something, eh," Canada said, pushing America away from him.

"Oh no," England shook his head. "Unless it is talking to me rationally and realizing how stupid a situation this is, I don't want to hear it."

"England." America leveled with him. "You're in a bag. You don't really have a choice."

"France is right. Well, only about one thing, eh," Canada added that part in quickly, shooting an apologetic look toward the Frenchman. "He does care for you. If he didn't he would have asked Prussia to help kidnap you, not America."

"Wonderful," England sighed, leaning back on the couch. "Something you got from your friends, France. You kidnap people you think you're in love with."

"I don't '_think'_!" France exclaimed.

"That's an understatement," America snickered.

"We've gone through this so many times and it never works out," England continued. "Just like Spain, you don't see to get it and you don't give up. And now, like my brothers, I'll just ignore it and live out the rest of my life doing things I like for myself without depending on others."

"You... want to be like your brothers?" America asked. "Right after saying they loved you... you jacked him up _bad_ France."

"People aren't supposed to be like their friends and family," Canada continued calmly. "You're supposed to be yourself! Do what you want to do! Take opportunities for the chance that you might find happiness! Twist yourself so you're _nothing_ like your _boring_, sex-addicted, _effeminate_ adopted parents!"

The three stared at him for long after his outburst.

"Dude, that's sad."

With a nervous laugh Canada moved away from the rest of them and placed himself in a corner. France and England looked at each other.

"None of this is changing your mind, is it."

"Not remotely," England admitted. France nodded. After all, none of this would likely put him in a good mood either.

Being romantic had not worked. Kidnapping had not worked. Using the countries they had once adopted had not worked. France knew he was running out of options for a short-term solution. Which is when it struck him. He needed someone who would transfer England's hate from him to them. And he knew exactly who to call.

"I'm calling Prussia."

Varying accounts of 'what' were echoed from the other three in the house as France pulled out his cell phone and went to the other room.

"What makes him think Prussia will make a difference?" England asked. Both America and Canada shrugged. Because how France's mind worked was unknown to all. Obviously.

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_To tide people over, I am putting up a bunch of first chapters to things I want to work on. Any ideas or feedback would be lovely, because although I have plenty, I do not have enough._


	2. This Is An Escape Attempt

**This Is The Chapter Where Things Get Worse**

France really could not blame England. After all, he had a very good look at the people England was brought up by. Three brothers who were all insane, England the youngest of them all. No, France would never blame England for how he was brought up.

"_Ai'll kill ye once an' fer all!"_

"_Jist ye try me, ye pansy!"_

"_Have either of you seen my notes?" England asked, lifting up a stack of books to stare at the papers beneath. Meanwhile, Scotland had a hand around Ireland's throat and another hand holding one of Ireland's wrists. Ireland had a hand around one of Scotland's wrists and his other hand held a dirk in it. Just guess which hand._

"_Have you seen my sheep?" Wales asked in return, walking about with his nose practically on the ground. Not that it was easy to see his nose with his hair in his face. Or the fact he was bent close to the ground._

"_The meeting starts in an hour!" England exclaimed. "Where are my notes?"_

_Ireland tripped over a sheep and he and Scotland found themselves on the ground. Without the dirk (somehow) and so they proceeded to punch each other instead._

"_Boys!" England barked at them, but to no avail. So he ignored them. He was good at it._

"_I swear he is just here..." Wales muttered to himself. England ignored him too. He was best at ignoring Wales._

"Why_ are you all in _my_ house?"_

England was the most sane, at this point. France had no idea how that was the case, but he was grateful for it. The last thing he would want was England to turn down that path.

"If this is really how you feel, England, I will just have to accept it."

"Really?" England asked, still only a head and a sack. And rather smug. Who knew why.

"No, I will not accept it!" France retorted, wondering just how long it was going to take Prussia to show up and be an asshole so that England could have something to compare him to and realize that France was not that bad. Which, having to compare himself to _Prussia_ of all people, was not saying much. But it might give him a step up. Then he could do the rest of the work!

He went back to pacing.

"This... is sadder than when Russia was asking America to join with him," Canada sighed from where he was sitting in an armchair, staring at his feet.

"Woah, no." America shook his head. "That was just creepy. No."

"You can't keep this up forever," England said. France turned around to face him again, eyebrow raised.

"Oh ho! So that is what you think!" France exclaimed.

"You are waiting for _Prussia_," England reminded him. Because he was pretty certain France had already forgotten by this point. "And then what? Prussia isn't going to change my mind. I'm a Celt. A Briton. An Englishman."

"And they don't have minds to change!" America finished. England glared at him. So did France, hoping to score points. Let alone the sentence was stupid. "Kinda like you, Canada!"

Canada joined in the glaring crowd. If looks could kill, well, there would be a lot less people in the world and the one person left would have a permanent look of disgust on their face. Or confusion. This person would likely be Sweden.

"Oh, I think Germany's car is coming up." America looked through the blinds. Canada looked uncertain, then headed out the door.

"Maybe Germany's come too," England rolled his eyes. "_Sooo_ scary..."

"Ha!" France barked out, looking toward the window. "Well..."

He followed after Canada.

"You got England to leafe you again!" Prussia announced as he shut the driver's door behind him. "I don't get vhy I'm here, France. It's not like dis is anyding new. Hey, Canada."

"Hello Prussia."

"But it is wrong!" France announced, looking toward Canada for help, who simply shrugged.

"No... what would be wrong is if you and England stayed together, because one of you would likely be pacified," Spain remarked as he got out of the truck as well. "Hello America!"

"It's Canada!" Canada retorted.

"Stop saying hello!" France exclaimed, though immediately gave Canada an apologetic look. Canada was still annoyed, but quiet about it. Like usual. "Why are _you _here, Spain?"

"You kidding?" Because vhy vould he vant to miss you making a fool out of yourself?" Prussia asked, grinning. "He's right, y'know. If you two stay togeder, it'll be because one of you are dead."

"Perfect," France rested his hands on Prussia's shoulders. Prussia raised an eyebrow. "You're _really_ annoying today. He'll hate you a lot more than me."

"Oh no, you're not gettin' England to start yelling at me!" Prussia dismissed the idea, waving his arm in front of him to push France away.

"Does he have his lawyer with him?" Spain asked. France looked at him quizzically. "For a restraining order."

"_Mon Dieu, non!_" France retorted. Spain shrugged.

"Then what are you worried about? Romano does that all the time..." Spain smiled, as if there was nothing wrong with that at all. Prussia slung his arm over Canada's shoulders.

"I don't get it. Vhy does dis boder you? I don't boder vith a relationship ant I'm fine. Being alone is so much more fun dan being vith someone else!" He turned his attention over to Canada. "Dough dat hockey game on Friday vas a lot of fun..."

"No, no, no!" France threw his hands up in the air. "Stop that! _Quel désastre_!"

"What?" asked Spain. France turned around and went back into the house, the other three following straight after, with both Prussia and Spain asking why France was annoyed and Canada reluctantly following, wondering how these three people managed to live for so long in life, despite how thick they were.

"Don't open the sack, England might bite you," Canada warned Prussia, who just gave him a grin. And why would it not? Prussia loved being given good ideas.

"Spain! Open the sack!"

"You–" France began, but Spain happily opened the sack. It was a useless descriptive word, because there was little Spain did which was not done happily.

America's head popped up.

"England, you've changed!" Spain said blankly.

"America!" Canada scolded. America shrugged.

And the only one who panicked was France. "England?" he called, glancing into the hallway to see if the other was in sight.

"What the hell, eh?"

"Well, it was boring," America said, straight faced. "And England said being in here was a lot more fun, especially if you're creative like me! So I said–"

"Stuff it!" France crossed the room in five steps and shoved one of the couch pillows into America's face. "Where did he go?"

Which was right when the five of them heard the engine start.

"Dat's my bruder's truck!" Prussia yelled. Spain stopped in the doorway, halfway paying attention to the scene outside and halfway paying attention to America's attempt at walking while in a sack. France tried to open the car door, but England had unfortunately had the foresight to lock the door against such an intrusion. Because he was not an idiot.

"_England!_"

"I'll stop him!" Canada said (despite himself, because he really was not certain why he was here at this point) and positioned himself behind the truck. Which backed up anyway. Canada jumped aside. France pulled his pocket knife out and popped the front two tires.

"**Hey!**" Prussia exclaimed.

The front window rolled down, exposing England's bored face.

"You tried to run me over!" Canada whimpered, but it did not affect the irritated Brit.

"Damn straight."

"Now the tires are flat, ha!" France retorted. England rolled his eyes.

"Not my truck. Ha!"

"You are totally paying for dat!" Prussia was ranting. "Today! Before Germany finds out dat I took his truck vithout asking! I'm so dead!"

"Your fault for leaving the keys in the car," America defended France, having easily ripped out of the sack once he realized that maybe it was not as fun as England had led him to believe.

"Nuh-uh!" Prussia pulled out the keys. The five outside the car stayed quiet.

"You... hot wired Germany's car?" France asked England. England shrugged.

"Awesome!" America grinned. "And I thought that you weren't paying attention! High five!"

"Hell no." England opened the door and got out. "I don't need a car. If I have to, I'll walk home. Unless," he stopped to glare at France, "you are going to stab _me._"

France looked down at his knife and put it away. "What will it take, _Angleterre_? I tried to talk to you at Scotland's house, I gave you gifts, I kidnapped you... do you want me to make fun of your eyebrows?"

England, who had up until that point been pretending to ignore France, suddenly stiffened. Prussia and America hid behind Canada. As he was not Russia, he could not hide the both of them very well. Not that he was trying at all.

"France," Spain called from the doorway. "Back away. Very slowly."

"No," France said stubbornly. "It wouldn't be the first time I commented on those hairy caterpillars on your face, would it England?" Hell, if playing nice would not work and Prussia was going to be useless, then France had to make his final stand. The card he had tried not to play. England was asking for it.

"I... don't care," England looked away from him. "Say whatever you want. Hell, I'm going to shave them off tomorrow."

"You couldn't even if you tried," Francis responded haughtily. England did not respond. France swallowed. "You... _Aidez-moi_!" he hissed back at the others.

"Look, France," Prussia cleared his throat, stepping in front of Canada as if he had never been hiding behind him in the first place. "A natural part of efery chick's life is leafing."

Silence. "I'm... not a _chick_," England deadpanned.

"I'm just stating facts here!" Prussia snorted, returning his attention to France. "Fire is hot, vater is vet, chicks valk out. England's practically a voman, he can't help it. You can't blame England for hafing destroyed your heart and soul. Being alone is better anyvay–"

"I'm not a woman!" England shout at him. You know, just in case he had missed the fact. "You wanker! Don't try and make me feel guilty, because it won't work!"

"If you feel guilty, you shouldn't leave," Spain said out of nowhere. England turned his irritation on him.

"I don't feel guilty!"

"Then stay."

"I will!"

"Then we're settled." Spain started checking his cell phone.

"Right," England nodded. Then he thought about it. "I mean no, I won't!"

"But you don't have to," America interjected. "You're back now."

"Oh." England blinked. "Wait. What? Stop it!" He backed away from all of them, including Prussia who was silently laughing as he slide down the side of the truck. "I'm going home! And you won't stop me unless you want a war!"

"Woo!" Prussia cheered and was promptly hit by both Canada and America. "Ow!"

"But you just said you were going to stay," France said smoothly, slipping his arm around England's waist. "We can discuss it over dinner~"

"Red alert, two o'clock," America called over. France and England looked down the driveway to see another car. England visibly brightened.

"Oh look, my brothers came to take me home!"

* * *

_England is not the most sane. France is just used to him by this point. At least, that is my opinion. I could be wrong, culturally. For this story, that will be the case._

_Spain is very sneaky. Then again, he deals with Romano. This is second nature to him._

_One or two more chapters for this. I think._

_Chapter two is 2,222 words. Fantastic._


	3. The Wonderful Thing About Family

**The Wonderful Thing About Family Is That 'Hate' Is Never Really Hate**

England should have known better than to think that his brothers would be on his side. Then again, England tended to think they had no choice in the matter, as they were all a part of the United Kingdom, of which he was really in charge of.

Actually, Ireland was not. At least, not all of him was. France never asked. He never really wanted to find out how exactly England had won his arm in a drinking game. England never beat any of his brothers in drinking games.

Obviously he did once. The thought was frightening.

"Ye want ta explain this text?" Ireland asked through the open window of the car, holding up his cell phone. "It says somethin' about bein' kidnapped by France and askin' fer help in kickin' his ass."

"Ai'm always up ta kickin' France's ass," Scotland admitted as he got out of the driver's seat. "Bu' wha' the hell, England?"

"I am... against senseless violence..." Wales said helpfully. Scotland pushed him back into the car and shut the door.

"Wow, _all_ three of your bruders," Prussia whistled. "That means someone should be getting' arrested for drunk driving!"

"Someone else who's ass Ai'd love ta kick!" Scotland grinned. Prussia stepped between Canada and America again.

"You're so pretty when you smile," Spain said off handedly. Everyone ignored him.

"Ooh, does that mean we're gonna have a fight?" America asked excitedly. No one answered that either. Most likely because no one wanted to get in a fight with America around. Neither as his enemy or as an unfortunate casualty.

"Can you just drive me back to London?" England asked, sighing, pulling France's arm off of his waist. Ireland's left arm nearly shot up in the air, but he caught it and kept it at his side.

"Yeah... huh," Scotland responded, folding his arms across his chest. "Why?"

"Because I could always take your truck away if you irritate me too much," England grumbled. Scotland glared at him.

"No offense, England, bu' Ai'd rather beat up France."

"Be my guest," England shrugged.

"But England!" France protested, trying to think of something, anything which would keep this situation from spiraling even more out of control than it was right now. "_These_ are the people you say love you?"

Scotland and Ireland promptly burst into laughter. If England turned any more red he probably would have passed out. America let out a long whistle.

"Yeah... I'd say that's pressing it just a little."

"Love isn't always apparent," Canada burst out loudly. "If that wasn't the case, everyone must hate me!"

_That_, everyone did stare at. Scotland and Ireland's laughter subsided, a few chuckles still escaping Scotland. England turned redder, but somehow managed to stay conscious.

"Hey, man..." Prussia began, but he was interrupted by America.

"What are you talking about?"

Prussia, France, and England all instinctively hit America. But, in being America, it did not affect him much and he stared at the three of them blankly.

"...right." Ireland sighed, leaning back against the car. "Are we goin', England?"

"_Yes_," England said exuberantly. France grabbed his arm before he could take the next step forward. "France. Let go of me right _now_..."

"All right, there is going to be a fight!" America cheered. Canada groaned.

"Then Ai git 'im!" Scotland pointed at Prussia. Prussia beat the front of his chest with a fist.

"Oh? You vant to go?"

Scotland took a step forward. Prussia ran back into the house.

"Anyone else?" Scotland asked, eyes on France. France glowered at him.

"This... seems to have turned into a family thing," Spain said hesitantly.

"You are family," France retorted immediately. Spain brightened up considerably.

"Really France? I never knew! I always thought that we–"

"Right _now_ you are family," France amended. Spain still rambled on about how happy he was, but again no one was paying him much mind.

"This is stupid," Ireland sighed, taking a step up next to Scotland. "We're all fully developed Nations. Almost." He gave a side look at Scotland, but continued. "Enough we should be able ta be mature about this?"

"Did ye jist call me underdeveloped?" Scotland roared. England hit him upside the head.

"We are _going_. Now. Get in the car."

The only reason Scotland and Ireland listened to England was because America seemed so up to a fight they were afraid that he might try to get involved in theirs. The three of them headed back to their car.

"France, you're letting him leave!" Canada exclaimed. France gave him a look which asked '_what else am I supposed to do?_'

"England!" France called once more. England, who was very sober (_against his will_) and therefore getting into the driver's seat, stopped to look at him. "I love you!"

"Like I haven't heard that before."

"I make mistakes!" He threw his hands into the air. "I'm just a Nation, I can't help it! I'm just a regular, a normal, Nation!" He paused. "But a very high normal. The most romantic Nation in the world, so do not start looking around elsewhere."

England still stayed still, despite the groans which came from within the car. "You'll just start flirting with other people again France. I'm sick of it. What do you want me to do?"

"You could always put me in a sack," France grinned.

They stared at each other for a long time.

England got into the car. "England!" France exclaimed, but Spain caught him by the shoulder.

"I think you're done here," he said. "You've said everything you can say, _mi amigo_. Time to go back inside."

"But..." France blinked, staring between his friend and England. Give up in _l'amour_? Loose in _l'amour_? He would never hear the end of it! And England...

England.

"Walk. Away."

The number of people who got an intense stare from Spain could be counted on one hand. Of someone with five fingers, of course. Still, it was not many people. And the phenomenon was rather creepy. France agreed with that, even if he did not agree with what Spain was saying.

Still, he looked straight at England. England looked straight back.

And France walked back into his house. He stopped near the couch, staring at the remnants of the potato sack as Spain closed the door.

"_Je n'avais pas..._" France said, unable to finish his sentence.

"Sh!" Spain whispered at him. France turned to see Spain with his ear pressed against the door. He was in a bad mood, he wanted to snap at Spain, but he recognized that look from hundreds of years of experience and suddenly knew what Spain was thinking.

"_Non..._ He would not." France shook his head. Spain appeared to ignore him.

"You let him go?" Prussia asked from the kitchen. France glared at him. They heard one of the cars (assuredly the one who's tires were not flat) drive away. France let out a sigh.

Then there was a knock at the door.

"France?"

France perked up faster than a cappuccino machine, but that is not saying much. He perked up really fast.

"Maybe... we can talk. Over that dinner. Just talk."

Both Spain and Prussia held on to France for dear life to keep him from opening the door as soon as they heard England's voice.

"France? Let me in!"

And meanwhile outside, yards behind England, America was telling the person on his phone yes, his brother was here and yes, he had borrowed his car without permission. And yes, that brother had also managed to pop two of the tires.

The only one really happy at this point in time was Spain. And America. And Wales.

But that is not saying much.

* * *

_France may be the master of 'l'amour' (so he says), but Spain is the master of manipulating a hot tempered person._

_Yes, I have kept the same Wales, Ireland, and Scotland from 'Recovering Francis'. Because they are my head cannon until... well, they are stuck that way, I fear. That is what Himuruya gets for taking so long to make anything of those three._

_I doubt Scotland and Prussia really have any history (I dunno), but having Prussia worried about Scotland beating him up is funny (after all, he is not a country. I would be scared too if I had little affect on people). And this story is based on funny. I hope._

_For those who did not read 'Recovering Francis', North Ireland is represented by Ireland's left arm, which has alien hand syndrome and occasionally does everything he does not want it to._

_One last chapter which will wrap up things. Slightly. I think._


	4. It Is All Pointless

**It Is All Pointless When You End Up Where You Started**

They were very likely to kill each other. England knew this well. Part of the reason he had left in the first place – let alone the fact France had difficulty keeping his attention in one place and was a horrendous flirt who could not seem to keep it in his–

"_Angleterre_, you are glaring at me again."

"Give me a reason why I shouldn't."

France was wondering how much of his technique he should change. It always seemed to work for him in the past. Just... not well enough.

"True enough."

England nearly choked on his champagne. "What?"

"You have every reason to glare at me, I suspect," France reiterated. "It is a fact I should learn to deal with, _oui_? Even if I don't quite agree with it."

England scowled. France and his tricks, he was trying to play a sympathetic character who did not deserve the scorn he really did deserve, but who was strong enough to move past it. Yeah right.

Then again, France did not open the door as fast as England had expected him to. He had stood there for about three whole minutes before France let him in. Which made England fear that maybe France was getting tired of dealing with him and was just going to give up.

Never mind that had been exactly what England had wanted earlier. Faced with that possibility, England wanted to kill the Nation for considering it.

The fact that Prussia and Spain had been restraining him was a fact England was not privy to. France continued to play the card, however, because it seemed to be working.

"This is stupid."

"_Oui_."

"Should we even be bothering?"

"Do not say things like that."

England sighed and stared down at his plate. "Fine. What should I say?"

France said goodbye to life and tried to think of a response which would either have him killed painlessly, or quickly. "How are we going to work this out?"

"I tried that already," England grumbled. "And you _stuck me in a sack_."

"Yes, I did. We have established this."

"Do I have to worry about that happening again?" There. He had asked it. It was a question of the ages. The question everyone wants to know the answer to.

France grinned.

"Probably."

England promptly tossed his champagne into France's face and left. France followed after and just like always they ended up bickering in a bedroom while both were trying very hard not to laugh.

"Did you pay Prussia to fix the tires?" England asked finally. France thought about it. Actually, he was thinking about his words, because he already knew the answer. Curse the English language and phrases which are now known as commonplace!

"No. Germany showed up. Prussia has to deal with it himself."

France almost expected to hear something about taking responsibility, but England kissed him instead.

_So it's only when it comes to _him_ I have to take responsibility? I can deal with that_.

On the other hand, England was thinking _Ha! Prussia's in so much trouble! That'll show that idiot that he should stay out of business that has nothing to do with him!_

Certainly both thoughts were childish, but neither England or France said their's aloud and so neither of them could point it out.

They were sort of stupid like that. Stupid and utterly Human.

And certainly the next week France was going to break up with England or England was going to be breaking up with France, but that would be them going full circle all over again.

It makes life interesting.

* * *

_Yes, they end up sort of where they start out. It is another one of my open endings. Just another chapter in the relationship of France and England, I suppose. I took the idea of England throwing his wine in France's face from watching 'Sherlock Holmes' the other day. Excellent movie. Plus, I just like the image of France soaked with wine against his will. It happens, sometimes._

_Thanks to all for sitting through this rather pointless story with me. I just wanted to take that episode of Titus and put these characters in it, but then I ran out of episode. So I hope this wrapping up of everything is good for everyone.  
_


End file.
